


Worlds Away

by notoneforreality



Series: Bared Souls, Bandaged Hearts [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daemons, F/M, Fluff, I made Lyra black, I suppose, Like they're never supposed to see each other again, Shh, THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FOR, The Author Regrets Nothing, a way to mend my heart, because reasons, but it kills me, i really can't tag, just go with it, possibly set up to another fic, shh wait for it, so I fixed it, sorry Phillip Pullman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneforreality/pseuds/notoneforreality
Summary: It's six years before she touches the alethiometer again. It's even longer before she uses it.((Or: having Will ans Lyra never see each other again genuinely kills me and causes me physical pain so I fixed it))





	

Lyra is eighteen when she pulls the alethiometer out of its velvet pouch for the first time in six years. She's in her first year of the preparatory course at St. Sophia's College in Oxford because the University has always and will always be her home. Dame Hannah had been the one to encourage her back into picking up the alethiometer because she dreads missing the feeling of comprehension. Pantalaimon wraps himself around her shoulders and together they open the golden compass. It only hurts a little bit. 

She's twenty the first time she manages to frame a question to get an answer. The swinging of the needle after she's asked the alethiometer is accompanied by the heavy feeling in her stomach that she now associates with the frustration of being unable to decode the messages, but Pantalainon whispers encouragement in her ear and reminds her that she's succeeded in her first goal. 

She's twenty-one the first time she understands the answer. It was a simple question, simply enquiring as to when the Gyptians would return next. The alethiometer says _soon_ and _summer_  and _close_. 

She's twenty-four when she asks the alethiometer about her old friend, Mary Malone. She reads the snake for Mary, the cauldron for her work and the madonna for family. There are other symbols that Lyra can't explain as easily, but she knows that Mary has a family. The alethiometer keeps showing the tree as part of her family and Lyra knows the compass well enough to work it out but she doesn't want to. 

It's not until she's twenty-four that she dares to ask about Will. The needle spins and she's still only relearning so it's still more of a list than a conversation but she reads the cauldron, the horse and the anchor. She knows that he's learnt something, something important, and that he's working hard to find a way to get to her. The alethiometer says something else but Lyra doesn't listen because she's afraid of the answer. She knows she was right about Mary caring for him, though. The alethiometer likes the tree as a symbol for Will. She checks the entire list of its meanings in her books and her chest swells slightly. 

She's twenty-five by the time she can read it without checking her books. 

It's June 23rd when she asks the alethiometer if she will ever see Will again. It swings between the hourglass, the camel and the alpha and omega and Lyra thinks _soon_ and _summer_  and _certainty._  The alethiometer keeps swinging but Lyra can't read it because her chest is tight and her vision is blurry and Pantalaimon is purring loudly in her ear. She gently replaces the golden compass into its velvet pouch and holds tight to it as she waits for the morning to come. 

It's June 24th when she find their bench already occupied. She can't help the gasp because her chest hurts; how dare anyone else sit in their spot on their day. But then he turns around and she's staring at a tall young man with cropped, dark hair and two missing fingers. The light material of his shirt makes his eyes shine and a cat twirls herself around his feet. He doesn't move so she does and he catches her in his arms. 

It's been thirteen years since they saw each other—far too long for both of them--and there is so much to catch up on. They have time, however, so for now they sink back down to keep the promise they had kept every year. Their daemons are tangled on their laps and the trees stretch above them like the years in their future. One day soon, they will have to leave each other again, but now they know there will be a next time and their hearts don't hurt as much. 

They're both ninety-seven when they step through their last door with enough stories to satisfy one-hundred harpies.


End file.
